Old Man Winter

Old Man Winter

My summer drifted by as tranquil as a dream,
with thoughts of Winter buried back in early Spring.
And now I hear that he has blown back into town
to stir unpleasant memories of times gone by.
This morning brought him calling in his bleak, white coat.
Around him flowers wilt beneath his rude embrace.
I see his frosty breath adorn my window-pane
and hear his whispers beckoning to let him in.
Above my door his icy fangs now hang and wait,
to find a chance to snuggle close against my skin.
I shudder at the thought of Old Man Winter's kiss
and pray for Summer's warmth to hurry back to me.



(Larry Gross created this form in 2001. It's blank verse, but with 12 syllables per line instead of ten. Twelve lines, iambic meter, unrhymed, any format. Where did it get its name: 12X12 = 1 Gross, so he called it a Grossblank.)